


Promise

by Superfanatural



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Back in Winterfell, Battle of the Bastards, Comforting, Cute, Doubt, F/M, Fluff, Guilt, House Stark, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kisses, Kissing, Love, Northeners, Reader-Insert, Sadness, Season 6 final, Sweetness, Taking back the North, Taking care of Jon, Winterfell, cuddeling, cuteness, selfdoubt, set after the Battle of the Bastards, the north - Freeform, tub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 18:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superfanatural/pseuds/Superfanatural
Summary: Set after the Battle of the Bastards, when Ramsey is deviated and House Stark had taken back Winterfell. Jon gets back after battle and is in shock, you help him get through it and comfort him. You clean him from all the blood and bathe together. And afterwards you stick his wounds up, and cuddle up in bed with Jon.





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Just a cute, streched out drabble I made, and of course turned into a One-Shot. Nothing special just comforting cuteness, that I feel Jon needs. Because come on we all are a little in love with the bastard of House Stark. Plus this is my first Game of Thrones fic, maybe there are more to come! Enjoy;)

It was winter, as was being sworn to all others that it would come, it was finally here. The snow never seemed to stop falling, as if the sky had unlimited access to frozen water. Thick flocks that clung underneath your boots, formed high packs of snow.

In Winterfell the wolf banner of the Stark House waved in the steel wind, trying to remain its position along the walls. Not many people dared to show themselves outside with the wild winds that cut through their clothes like knives.

So did Jon Snow, King in the North, who stayed inside his chamber with you. The Battle of the Bastards was still fresh in everyone’s memories, the slaughter had only happened a few hours ago. The moon had risen over Winterfell and all the Northerners had retrieved into their homes for shelter.

The battle had left more dead than wounded, and after seeing the horrific butchering that was done on the field, nobody was in the mood for a feast. The loyal followers of Jon didn’t smile when the fight was over, none sheered in victory and none felt like they had won anything.

He hadn’t said much since he got back. He had immediately run to you, pulled you into his arms and didn’t let go for a long time. Only after you whispered comforting words, told him it was over and that you were unharmed, had he loosened his grip on you.

You knew Jon took this hard, feeling like this was all on him. Watching his little brother, Rickon, die right in front of him had put that much more guilt on him, not to mention the countless other men that had fallen. But honestly you were glad he did it, because Ramsey Bolton got what he deserved: a painful death. It was only rightful, after what he had done to Sansa and Rickon, and presumably countless others.

You had made a warm bath for him, seeing him all soaked in blood and Gods know what else. You had started a fire inside the bedroom to heat it up more, and given Jon a glass of something strong. His eyes were fixed on some spot on the floor, you could almost see the gruesome images flickering in his eyes.

You took his hand and guided him to the bathroom, taking off his armor piece by piece. You weren’t the stay-at-home pleasing-your-husband type, but you knew that in these moments you had to support each other.

The mud covered his armor so much, that you couldn’t even see the shinning silver anymore. The amount of blood on his body made it hard to tell if it was his or somebody else’s. He stepped in bath, with you following suit, positioning yourself in front of him to get better access at cleaning him. After a few minutes the water was dark of sand and blood.

You cleaned his roughed up body with a sponge, gently caressing him. You tried your best to get it all off, and to avoid hurting him when you brushed over his wounds. He looked at you with his dark eyes, watching you carefully, as if he intended on remembering every detail of your body.

You focused on him, as you placed your hand on top of his chest and examined the deep slash on the right. It had stopped bleeding put it definitely needed stitching later to make it heal properly. You didn’t speak, not wanting to force him to talk about it or anything else, you were comfortable with the silence.

His rough hands trailed along your sides, making sure you sat steady on his lap. A smile crept up your face when you felt him watch you intensely. You raised your fingers up to his face to tuck away a stain of curly hair. Your eyes lifted up to look at his, giving him a reassuring smile.

“I saw him.” He said after a long while of silence, sorrow in his eyes as he thought about it. Your hands stopped working when you heard him. Not wanting to push him you didn’t say anything, just waited for him to speak.

“Rickon… He had grown so tall since the last time I saw him, he was becoming a real man.” He let out a controlled sigh, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“I tried to. I really did. I..I was almost there, I could already feel his hand grabbing mine. I wanted to pull him to me, to safety. And then… I wasn’t fast enough!” He yelled as he punched his fist into the water, making it splash over the edge of the tub.

“I should have saved him, Y/N! But I wasn’t fast enough! I should have saved my little brother!” He shouted, but you knew it wasn’t at you, he was angry with himself.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.” He bowed his head making the curls fall in front of his face again.

“I know, my love. It’s alright.” You placed your hands on his shoulders.

“It’s not. Those men out there, fought for me, fought for the North. And now they’re dead, I let them down, I’m not a leader.”

“You know that’s not true.” You cupped his cheeks and lifted his head up, feeling the hairs of his beard against your hand.

“As you said, those men fought for you. Because they believe in you, they know you are a true leader and will always do what’s right. They fought for the freedom of the North, they fought for the Starks and they fought for their leader. They gave their lives for you, because they would rather die next to you fighting for the North than live under Ramsey. You are supposed to lead them, Jon, the people need you, the North needs you.”

Before he could say any more, you pressed your lips against his. Your lips started to move in sync as they always did, you could feel the little hairs of his beard tickling your chin. His hands moved up to your breasts and you put your arms around his neck.

“You can’t give up now.” You pulled away, looking into his eyes and telling him with all sincerity.

The water was losing its warmth, so you stepped out to grab cloths for the both of you. You quickly dried yourself and put on a black nightgown, that was made out of thick wool against the cold.

“I need to take care of your wounds first.” You said before he could put on the pants that was already in his hands.

“Darling, I’m fine, I just want to rest.” He protested, but you grabbed the box of medical supplies from the shelves and nodded Jon to follow you.

You could hear him letting out a little grunt of pain as he sat down on your bed. The king-size bed was more than big enough for the two of you, taking in most of the space, with only a wooden desk and chair in the corner. On the opposite wall from the bed hang a huge map of Westeros, hand painted by one of the maesters themselves. Next to it was the door to the bathroom, and to the right was the door to the ice cold outdoors with windows next to it.

“I’ll be quick.” You said to him, as you took out the pure alcohol, thread and needle and some bandages.

You started with the deep wound on his chest, it was a long flesh wound that went from his collarbone to his rib. You cleaned it from any bacteria and then started to stitch it up.

“We’re back in Winterfell, our home.” You said with a dreamy smile as you kept working.

“Yeah, I’ve missed it. The court yard where we used to run around playing catch with each other. One time Robb was running after Arya trying to catch her, but he slipped it in the mud and fell with his face in pig shit.”

He laughed at the old memory. It felt good hearing him laugh again, making things feel a little bit more whole and good.

You finished up, disinfecting a couple wounds and closing the big cut on his upper leg. Jon and you climbed in bed, under the thick layer of blankets and wolfs fur to keep you from freezing tonight. You lay face to face, limbs entangled with each other, you softly brushed over the small cut on cheek.

“I’ve missed you.” He breathed out in a low voice.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“Y/N, please don’t ever leave me. You are one of the few things I’ve still got, and I can’t bear to lose you too. Promise, Y/N, please promise me.” He pulled you closer with his left hand on your back and put his forehead against yours.

“I promise.” You whispered with your eyes closed, as you felt Jon’s lips touching yours. The deep warm kiss sent shivers down the back of your neck, it had been an exhausting day and you had worried a lot about him. But it felt like the kiss reassured you that nothing bad would happen anymore, that you would live out the rest of your life with Jon until you got old.

Your hands trailed over his arms holding him close to your body, the scar from a former fight felt uneven on his right bicep. But it was only a reminder that he had won again, and that he was still standing, still standing next to you.

You turned around with your back against his chest, making you the little spoon. His muscular arms wrapped around your waist, as he left tender pecks on the nape of your neck. Since it was always decently cold in Winterfell, you liked to sleep in this position so that you could share your body heat.

You watched the flames that danced in the air, and in the end dissolved into nothing. The patterns always changing with every flame, the dim glow of orange shone in the chamber. You closed your eyes, satisfied with the moment.

Jon Snow, the man you loved.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this Jon Snow fic, because I can't get enough of reading fanfic about him. Please leave kudos or a comment to let me know what you think, and maybe there will be more GoT fics!


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